“It had a cost, what your father did. Created a curse of its own. Needing to balance what had been done. Your father’s choice changed the fate of an entire realm, their people. Millions of fates altered because of one choice.”
My back went rigid, my skin heating.
“As punishment for his crime, your lands were cursed. Your kingdom was then magically forgotten and cut off, which in turn altered your people's minds, their books, and their maps. The realm your father sent the witch to was stitched onto your own. Only those with the blood of the one who caused this damage can know and remember, and only those of the same blood can undo it. This curse will only lift when everything is set right.”
“How?” I growled. He told me there was only one path. I needed to know what it was, needed to fix this, all of this. Needed to kill that fucking witch, and make sure she would never survive, take another life again.
“I cannot tell you that. I can’t interfere, not yet.”
He wasn't fucking serious.
I recoiled as if I had been slapped, but before I could voice my fury, Caelan stood.
“I have my own rules I need to abide by. You needed to hear this story and understand the facts. This knowledge is essential for you to forge the path ahead. I have provided you with the information, and now the decision regarding your fate and that of your kingdom rests with you and your kind. Her thirst for our knowledge, for more power will never cease, and everything and everyone will be destroyed because of it.”
“How am I supposed to kill an unkillable witch if you do not tell me how to do it?” I snarled.
“Maybe it is not your knowledge to have but anothers?” Caelan said cryptically, and I glared at him. What use was bringing me here, if not to help me kill her? A thought boiled to the surface of my mind, pushing out all others, and it sprang from my lips aggressively.
“How does Zara play into all of this?”
Caelan looked away from me, and I fought to stand again, but his power didn’t let me.
“Zara is a vessel. Morgana used her to bridge the gap between your realms, her unique biology allowing her to travel between your two kingdoms. However, divine power cannot be directly taken, so Morgana can only control Zara through other means, such as compulsion, manipulating her mind to do her bidding. Their souls are intertwined and have been for most of Zara's life. It is as much a part of Morgana now as it is of her, but Morgana cannot wield Zara's power like she can the other souls.”
“And what happens toherif Morgana dies?”
Caelan remained silent, and my heart pounded in my chest. He turned back to me slowly, his eyes brimming with sadness. “I'm afraid I cannot speak of another's fate, not even to a mate who shares in that soul.”
It felt as if my chest had been cleaved open. The look on his face, he didn’t need to tell me what would happen to her—his expression said it all. I fought to stand again and thrashed against his invisible bindings, cursing him and his cursed fate. We made our own fate, our own paths. She would survive. We would all survive, and I would make Morgana pay for everything she had done.
“I’m afraid our time is up, Xavier.” Caelan was back on his throne, a mountainous form in the vast sky. “Give the pendant to Jaxon. He will be able to see what was discussed here today. He must learn the truth as well.”
“Don’t you fucking dare. We aren’t done here,” I roared, still thrashing.
“No, we most certainly are not,” his ancient, eerie voice chimed in my mind, and then I was falling. The chair and the marble disappeared underneath me as I was swallowed into the glittering sky.
Chapter 16
Zara
Rolling over in bed, I sighed. The memory of Xaiver’s fingers pulling in and out of me made me shiver. Did that actually happen? Or had I just imagined it?
Groaning, I sat up in bed and ran my fingers through my tousled hair, cursing when they got caught in the tangled knots. I winced. Something on the side of my neck stung, and my hand shot toward it. My eyes widened.
Scrambling from the bed, I ran to the bathing chamber, skidding to a stop in front of the large mirror hanging over the sink. My gaze landed on deep indentations on my flesh. They were red and swollen. Bite marks.
Okay, so not a dream.
Pulling at my shirt, I peered down at my chest. The long red mark that had been there yesterday was gone, and I huffed in irritation, glaring back up at my neck. These marks should have disappeared by now. The poison was out of my system, and my magic should be working.
Calling on my magic, I concentrated on the marks, watching in relief as they slowly began to heal. They did so reluctantly, as if my magic wanted me to keep them. A growl tore from my lips. That was insanity… but I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me, delighting in the thought—of keeping them, showing them off.
No. Shaking my head, I forced them to disappear, watching as they slowly faded from my skin. I gripped the sink with both hands, the whites of my knuckles showing. It was nothing more than a reminder of my weakness, nothing else. Last night should not have happened.
I spun around, stalking out of the bathing chamber and started to gather my things.
Pulling at the laces of my boots, I glared toward the door, lowering my silencing barrier. It was quiet. Good. My stomach soured at the thought of having to confront Atticus and decided it was better to just disappear.
